


The Flat

by gatoradeeh7x3



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, M/M, how did this show manage to ruin me in six episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatoradeeh7x3/pseuds/gatoradeeh7x3
Summary: When Aziraphale stays over at Crowley's flat, he gives the plants some much-needed positive reinforcement.Crowley, meanwhile, just wants everything to go perfectly.





	The Flat

 

 

“So… we’re here,” Crowley gestures grandly at his flat.

 

“Erm,” Aziraphale coughs, “Interesting design choices.” He stares up at the intimidating building where he’d be spending the night.

 

“Oh, shut up, Angel. Beggars can’t be choosers.” Crowley snipes playfully.

 

“You’re right,” he sighs, “I’m sorry. Your place is wonderful. It doesn’t deserve to take the heat.”

 

Crowley snorts. “Yeah, the bookshop did enough of that.”

 

Aziraphale’s eyes water at the memory. _Bollocks._

 

Crowley turns to unlock the door so that the angel couldn’t see the guilt on his face.

 

“Don’t worry,” he mutters, suddenly serious, “I’ll miracle that place back if I have to.”

 

The angel recovers after a bit of sniffling. He offers a slight smile at the gesture. “I’ll make do. But thank you.”

 

As the door finally creaks open, Crowley groans at the overwhelming wholesomeness of the angel. It was ineffable. “Whatever. Come on in.”

 

Aziraphale tentatively steps past the demon who moved to let him through. “Oh my.”

 

Crowley follows him in, closing the door behind them. “It isn’t the Ritz, that’s for sure,” he smirks.

 

It looked like a tasteful interior designer with an emo rock phase had been given a million dollars and told to go wild. As Aziraphale spins slowly and takes in the decor, Crowley curses. He thought he covered all of his bases this morning when he’d cleaned every inch of the flat to rid it of blood and other miscellaneous mood-breakers, but there was still one thing.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Nothing, my angel. Have a look around. I just need to go take care of something I forgot.”

 

“Um... alright.”

 

Crowley practically sprints to the green room. His plants shudder as he stalks in murderously.

 

The demon speaks in his low, dangerous voice. “Listen here, you useless weeds. That man over there is an angel, literally. His heart would _bleed_ if he found you shivering pathetically. So if he learns how much abuse you take…”

 

Crowley looks around, wracking his brains for a sufficiently threatening punishment before grinning devilishly at the obvious answer. “...I’ll abuse you more. Got it?”

 

The plants don’t even dare to move.

 

Satisfied, he spritzes them a few times and straightens them out to make them presentable.

 

Meanwhile, Aziraphale is searching through Crowley’s fridge, appalled. “Bacon and poptarts. That’s it. That’s all he has.”

 

Sensing the horror of his guest, the demon pokes his head into the doorway. “We’ll order in, it’ll be fiiiine. Stop your bellyaching.”

 

Aziraphale is torn between lecturing his friend on nutrition and requesting sushi. He settles for stammering.

 

Crowley rolls his eyes and saves him from this embarrassing show. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour. You can take the bed tonight, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

 

Aziraphale silently follows Crowley through the rest of the apartment, which he soon realizes is far from normal. This is evidenced by not one but _two_ torture rooms, an indoor theatre that exclusively shows children’s telly, and a sauna. Okay, the sauna was impressive. They’d have to use that later.

 

The tour ends with the plant room, and Aziraphale chuckles humorously. “Oof. I’m done with gardening after all those years babysitting Warlock. I _still_ feel the glue from that moustache.”

 

Crowley snickers sympathetically. “Hey, at least you didn’t have to wear fake breasts.”

 

The two grin at each other for a moment before Aziraphale looks over his shoulder. “Wait, no way. Are those the talking plants? The ones that understand human speech?”

 

The demon nods proudly. “Most verdant in the world.”

 

He’s awe-struck, and Crowley can’t help be gratified. The plants had behaved after all.

 

After he shows off a bit more, they head back to the living room, where they spend a lovely evening watching bad TV and chowing down on sushi.

 

~~~

 

Crowley wakes up in the middle of the night on the couch. He hears a soft voice coming from the other side of the apartment and frowns. Was everything okay?

 

He pushes off the blanket he didn’t remember grabbing and sits up. Aziraphale must have cleaned up the mess from yesterday after the demon drifted off. He looks to his left and sees a glass of water, a tissue box, and his phone, all arranged meticulously for his convenience. Crowley practically gags at the sincerity of it all.

 

Stumbling off the couch, he heads toward the source of the sounds. Passing his bedroom, he peeks inside and feels a pang of disappointment at its emptiness. Part of him wanted to see Aziraphale snuggled up in his sheets.

 

Crowley ignores this intrusive thought and continues his search, ending up at the green room. _Of course._

 

Inside, he finds the angel sitting cross-legged on the floor, with severe bedhead and dressed casually for once. He’s so busy whispering sweet nothings to the plants that he doesn’t even notice him at the doorway.

 

That’s probably for the best. Crowley didn’t want the angel seeing his face expressing something that could almost be considered… sentiment. Those damn weeds were already enjoying his moment of weakness too much, shaking with contained laughter instead of fear.

 

They’d need to be disciplined later, of course. Too smug for their own good. Plus, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was jealous.

  
_Jealous of plants_ , he shook his head, infuriated, as he walked back to his couch, _just what had his life become?_

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative theory: Aziraphale gave Crowley the plants after pretending to be a gardener and Crowley just wants to take good care of the present in his own... unique way. 
> 
> Also, pray for me since I just binge-watched this show and churned out this fic instead of studying for my exams lol. No regrets cuz every episode was amazingggggg. Kudos and comments will help me deal better with my impending doom, though... XD


End file.
